Supplication
by Polar Thestral
Summary: PolarCandy. A post-destiny one shot. The podsters have seen their destiny, Maria drags Liz into the woods to find theirs...


**Title: Supplication **

Rating: R

Summary: Even water must flow through the river before reaching the sea. Everything goes wrong on Liz Parker's last day in Roswell. post- destiny.

Ship: Polar and Candy.

Authors Notes: I was playing around with some rune imagery in When You Were Mine and started thinking of other plot devices, which somehow bled into thinking of Arthurian myth and I got swept up in mythology, then I started to think about Bruce Lee's strength in water speech...hmm. Oh and chocolate pretzels - ergh, I like Kevin Smith movies?? My only reason, don't ask. Just work through the muddiness of the imagery, I was having fun. This is set a week after S1: Destiny, Liz is still planning on going to Florida, this is just a one shot that by no means wants to play around with canon, and by NO MEANS wants to continue.  
  
I apologize to any runecasters on the board – I'm obviously no expert. I got all the information about the Elder futhark from the website Runes: Alphabet of Mystery.

Disclaimer: I do not own Roswell and am making no profit yada yada.  
  
_A great big thanks to the irreplaceable Stacie for looking this over for me, I humbly lick her feet. Thanks for smacking my occasional slip into the aussie colloquial :)_

* * *

**S U P P L I C A T I O N**

* * *

**Uruz in Reverse:**  
  
_...weakness, misdirected force, rashness, lust..._

* * *

She ran like a pagan, wild and free in the bittersweet darkness. Every time the sunlight caught her, she looked up through the canopy, making sure it wasn't God casting garish light on her sin. Max had once highlighted her desire, made all the love in her shimmer down her arm. She didn't want to glow now. Everyone would see. Instead the sun caressed her like a pleasure, chased her with the wind as the saltwater from her eyes streamed down. It hurt to be so loved, when she should be hated. She thought of the sea, and Florida, turned her face up to the sky and away from everything behind her. If the world didn't want to see, she didn't want to show it.  
  
Max's face loomed in her mind, smiling in that soft way, curled up in her arms in the van telling her, 'a hundred years from now...it doesn't matter...my destiny is the same...I want to be with you, Liz...I love you.' Tess was nothing to him. Tess. When the sunlight caught _her_ hair, it burned. Liz's brown locks could do nothing but shimmer. She ran faster, she couldn't think of either of them without her skin betraying her. Shivers and lurches and unpleasant twinges _reminding_ her.  
  
Her hair was wet, her shirt torn and she fought the desire to search for her missing shoe. Her heart clenched and her body revolted, she was sticky and uncomfortable and getting colder and colder with each footstep against the damp ground. On the up side her ankle wasn't hurting.  
  
She could hear voices and smiled through tears as the Mystic Fair suddenly broke free of the encroaching woods. A shaded clearing bursting with excited laughter, the jangle of beads, the smell of incense and dew sodden grass and an odd mixture of Native American and Celtic sound. Smoke, dangling earrings and crude glinting teeth over crystal balls, dream catchers, runes and tarot – all – at mystical war. The clouds moved above and the sun was free to caress the happy gatherers, envying their frailty in the dark of the woods.  
  
Liz sighed, pulled her hair behind her ear as she dove into the crowd. She didn't stop moving, didn't want to see the stunned faces, have to gauge what they were thinking of the strange girl looking like she'd been mauled by a wild coyote. She moved into the crowd and tried to close her ears from the whispers. She could still hear the blood racing past her ears; feel the clamminess of her skin beneath pale cheeks; the mud caked on her skirt; her hands shook as she clenched her fingers around the single sandal she had salvaged from the wreck.  
  
She didn't find Maria. Maria found her, running from the crowd, her face pale, her arms thrown quickly around Liz and embracing her. Liz's tears stopped abruptly and she pushed Maria back. No hugs. No touches. She couldn't bare to be comforted. This wasn't her home, she needed to be - far, far away - where none of this existed.  
  
"I'm fine." She laughed, brushed a traitorous drop of water from her cheek. "I took a bit of a fall."  
  
"Into where? The Grand Canyon?" Maria's eyes travelled down, indicated her torn shirt with the raise of an eyebrow, marvelled at Liz's cut legs and finally stopped at her feet. "Where is your shoe? I bought those for you on sale!"  
  
"Half price." Liz blinked and looked at her shoeless foot. Now that she was standing still amongst a mob of gawkers, she could feel the cuts underneath her sole. And every twig keeping those cuts open and bleeding. She wobbled. "Now I have half a pair – so you still got what you paid for." Maria growled at her blasé response. "I couldn't find it. I-I tried." Seeing that Liz was on the verge of hysterical, Maria shook her hand, waving it off even though it hurt that Liz had been so careless with a present.  
  
"It's fine. They're out of stock though, so you'll never find another pair like it." _If only the world was so kind,_ Liz thought. They'd caused her nothing but trouble all day.  
  
"It was probably fate." She said, trying her best to grin through the weird ache all over her body. Maria let Liz slip an arm around her shoulder, started walking toward the parking area. It was some walk away. Too much time to talk.  
  
"You don't believe in fate, sweetie. Let's get you home and hose you off. No more rolling around in the dirt, ok?" Maria smiled at her dazed friend, patting Liz's wrist where it clutched her shoulder painfully.  
  
"How'd your destiny turn out?"  
  
"Full of pot-holes...certainly no highway I'd choose to drive down. Plus the directions were lousy."  
  
"Mmmhmmm." Liz was biting her lip, staring at the jetta longingly as they progressed slowly toward it. Maria's touch was making her want to scream.  
  
"I mean he basically said I should let Michael betray me or we'd never be together. I totally don't understand that logic, do you?" Maria was starting to rant, Liz was barely hearing her. "You know what? I bet he says that to all the girls who go in his stupid tepee. Yeah...I bet every male Roswellian pitched in five bucks to include an adultery clause in their destiny." She growled. "The loveable-louse clause. It's complete BS, if Michael ever—"  
  
"There is, I mean—" Liz cut herself off with a strangled noise.  
  
"Are you ok?"  
  
"Y-es. There are other forms of betrayal. That's all."  
  
"He was pretty damn specific. Pretty damn specific about a lot of things, including tall blonde ice queen bitches who can't keep their hands of other people's aliens. I mean sure they had this whole other life—" Maria grinded her teeth together. She exhaled, long, loud, thoroughly ridding her body of all toxic air. "He hasn't cheated on me yet and I already want to use my bumper bar as a bat to his thick skull. Breathe, breathe...oh Carsten messed with my head, maybe I should see Madame Vivian for a second opinion?"  
  
"Does it work like that?" Liz said with a sigh.  
  
"This is more important to me than a stomach bug, so if I can get a second opinion about indigestion then I certainly will for this!" Maria noted her friends pale face, the heaviness in her limbs. "I'm sorry, chica. You've had a miserable day, I just...I needed to know we'd be ok. Do you think he'll call me?" Maria's eyes looked so dark blue and they were swelling with tears. Liz looked into them, completely lost. Her mouth was open, but words were meaningless. Maria's jaw tightened. "_He will_. Cartsen said we'd be happy together, in love. He just needs time. He needs to find himself so he can help me find myself and then we can find ourselves and we'll be damned certain of who we are and that we're perfect for each other in the end. I _know_ it."  
  
"Good."  
  
"You're so not the outdoors type. You'd think we would have learned after our little camping expedition. Don't go wandering off into the woods again, a bear might get you next time." Bears in Roswell? Liz didn't even have the concentration to figure out if they were out there. There were worse things than being mauled to death. Liz immediately started to compile a drowsy list, starting with all the experiences in this day. Her brain had been rattled; she could hear it bouncing around. Her temples throbbed.  
  
"You really should have had your reading done. Carsten was very thorough. You would have learned a lot." Maria leaned Liz's sore body against the side of the Jetta, rattling around in her purse for the keys. Liz's eyes were watery too. She watched her friend with a completely open agony that Maria was too distracted to see.  
  
"I think I've learned enough lessons for today."

* * *

**Nauthiz:**  
  
_...endurance, survival, determination. A time to exercise patience. Recognition of one's fate..._

* * *

"Aren't you glad you came?" Maria wrapped her arm into the fold of Liz's, grinning with absolute pleasure.  
  
"Yeah, this is great." Liz smiled faintly back. Distractions were good and Liz could hardly complain if Maria's idea of therapy was less than conventional. She couldn't stamp her foot and demand solitude when Maria would just stamp harder and demand company. Plus Maria tended to wear heels and Liz was wearing sandals today. They were both suffering the same problem with their respective loves. Liz was going to Florida tomorrow, she'd have plenty of solitude then.  
  
Maria jumped up and down on her toes. "See! I wish Alex hadn't been so stubborn, he's still moping about Isabel. Well I'm not going to be a wimp, he loves me. Trust Michael to come across that epiphany when he's _dumping_ me, it's like he _tries_ to be as brooding and melodramatic as possible. One of these days he's going to come crawling back and I might just be generous enough to give him a second chance. Once the grovelling is over of course." She held up a delicate silver arm band for Liz's approval. Liz eyed the serpent pattern with disdain and shook her head. Maria was more of a butterfly girl.  
  
Liz picked up an elegant celtic knot and handed it to Maria. Maria smiled, slipping it on her arm, turning on the side to see the reflection in the mirror. She frowned, maybe she wasn't toned enough for an arm band, because her skin was scrunching up in a far from flattering way and she was by no means fat. Hmm. She ripped it off and threw it back onto the stand. It landed with the anklets. They both ignored the (literal) cursing from the pagan salesman and on to the next stall.  
  
"So he hasn't returned your phone calls?" Liz said, tucking an errant lock of hair behind her ear.  
  
"A minor detail." Maria called conspiratorially over her shoulder.  
  
Liz smiled softly and laughed. They were pathetic, standing around a mystic fair mooning over their parallel tragic destinies. Maria had been right earlier in the year when she said that the aliens had ruined them for all other men. Their love had left its mark and now both girls felt like they'd be branded forever, that regular humans wouldn't be able to live up to their predecessors. It was probably way too early for a prognosis, but they were both showing all the signs of intergalactic obsessive compulsive disorder. That is, compulsively obsessing over the wrong alien. Liz perked up and gripped Maria's arm tighter.  
  
"I don't see Madame Vivian here, isn't she your guru?"  
  
"One, she's not a guru. Two, she's my _mom's_ spiritual advisor..."  
  
"Ah. Perhaps we should seek our counsel elsewhere, something tells me her Madam Vivian's crystal ball might be a little foggy."  
  
"We're here to seek independent destinies. If _they_ have to almost die and pair up with the frost queens themselves – all to get a little message from the sky telling them to be with the exact person that is wrong for them— then I sure as hell have no qualms about paying five bucks to be told _exactly_ what I want to hear." Maria grinned, pointing over to a tent which said 'Futhark Readings' and seemed to have a very small line out the front in comparison to the tent two stalls up with the great big 'TAROT' sign.  
  
Beneath the main sign on the Futhark tent was smaller writing, 'Runecaster Carsten Barham consults his Elder Futhark to divine your destiny.'  
  
"Looks like it's door number one, Chica." Maria grinned and quickly pulled Liz into line.  
  
"If I hear one more person say _destiny_ or _fate_ I'm going to break out the nipple twisting trick I learned from Alex."  
  
"Alex has a nipple twisting trick?" Maria smiled wickedly, "he never showed me that. Was it a private lesson?"  
  
"Sand pit. Sixth grade. He is the master of pain."  
  
"Tell me about it, my arm still stings from the Chinese burn he gave me in seventh."  
  
"Much more effective than hair pulling, but I never mastered it to the same level."  
  
"What belt are you on?"  
  
"Brown, I'll need more practice to work myself up to black." Liz moved toward Maria, threateningly pinching her fingers, a wicked grin passed over her face.  
  
"Don't even...no!" Maria burst out laughing, protectively clamping her hands and purse over her chest. She backed off, giggling and shoving at her determined friend—  
  
A sharp cough cut through their game. Both girls stood to attention, Maria twirled around with a flushed face and dazzling grin.  
  
"Sorry..."  
  
A middle-aged lady stood before the Futhark tent, looking disdainfully between Liz and Maria. Her hair was a little ratty, as if she'd recently rolled around on the ground trying to balance her chi but hadn't quite achieved the desired effect. Her clothes draped nicely on her elegant body, her eyes were green and blue. The strange turquoise colour, much like Maria's, reminded Liz of the sea. Her Aunt's. Florida. Liz smiled tightly, her mind already beginning to list last minute things she had to pack. Like a smile and a new resolution not to mope.  
  
Maria grinned at the lady warmly and moved forward with an energetic greeting. The smile was not returned. A brisk hand rose in the air cutting off any greeting that had threatened the woman's foul mood. The happy jingling of the bangles around her wrist almost made Liz laugh when she saw the scowl on the woman's face.  
  
"Five dollars." The woman snapped.  
  
Immediately a brown suede bag was thrust into Maria's chest. Disgruntled, Maria stuffed a note into the bag and barely restrained the urge to poke out her tongue. The bag was then thrust at Liz.  
  
"Oh no," She raised her arms and stepped back, "I'm just here for moral support."  
  
"Carsten doesn't like freeloaders disturbing the cosmic energy. If the mystic powers bother you why do you insist on wasting our time with your scepticism? You're just here to socialise and laugh at the ancient wisdom we practice! Why don't you just head on over to the chocolate pretzel stand and read your own future in the melted stains all over your palm!" She turned up her priggish nose, pushed her glasses closer to her eyes and pivoted back inside the tent with an aggravated grunt.  
  
Liz blinked, feeling quite hungry all of a sudden. She wasn't sure if that had been the intended purpose behind that lecture.  
  
"That's it Maria, you've just witnessed your future, if I see you with one more bottle of cypress oil—"  
  
"I'm right with you, babe."  
  
"I think I'm just going to wander around a bit. I'd hate to put Carsten off with my nasty vibes, who knows you may end up in a deep and meaningful relationship with a chocolate pretzel. I'll be crossing my fingers for the singing career, Czeckoslavakian sex and sudden prosperity." Liz winked at her friend and walked off into the fair, perfectly content to be destiny free.  
  
Chance was a much finer thing. An accident was quirky and happy, entirely without burden or further consequence. Liz was sick of believing there was a predestined path which took pleasure in leading her into misery. It was much more comforting to think that mistakes were all her own, hers to make and hers to fix whenever chance came along.

* * *

**Eihwaz**  
  
_...defense, protection. The driving force to acquire, providing motivation and a sense of purpose..._

* * *

The rock quivered for a moment on top of the decaying tree stump. It moved side to side, vibrated and began to glow red. Suddenly it exploded in a cloud of fine grey dust.  
  
"Again." Five metres away the young girl stood, picking dirt out from beneath her nails. She yawned slightly. There was no reaction from her companion. Her blue eyes looked up at him, a finely clipped eyebrow raised in question.  
  
"I'm sick of this." Her companion snapped, running a hand along the side of his spiked hair.  
  
"Again. Do it until you get it right."  
  
"It went boom." He monotoned. "I didn't realise there was a special way to make a rock go boom."  
  
"Michael."  
  
"_Tess!_"  
  
"Again." She said and returned her attention to her nails. She certainly wasn't doing this for herself, but they weren't giving up on the rocks until Michael could do at least four in a row without losing his temper and his control. He'd only blown up one this time before he'd gone all Scrooge-post-Wall-Street-crash.  
  
The next explosion broke her from her introspection as a sudden chilling splash of water sprayed all over her clothes. She shrieked and jumped around in a circle. His chuckle brought her attention back to him. He was standing by the shore of the small creek running through Frazier Woods, a suspicious cloud of grey dust settled over the lapping water of the bank. An ever more suspicious half-smirk was twisting his mouth mischievously. Her gaze darted to the log where she'd left four rocks, three were still sitting there and he'd already exploded one, which meant...She glared at him.  
  
"Your aim's a little off. If you were this bad in your former life, it's no wonder we died."  
  
"Keep talking and I'm sure I'll develop the incentive to practice."  
  
Tess signed. She brushed down her jeans and red sweater then stalked over to him regally. Her eyes were slits of ice as they raked over his flushed face. "I'm here because you asked me to help. I know you had a rough night, burying Pierce and all...but stop giving me attitude." Michael clenched his jaw and stared at the ground. She sighed. "Since you've already cooled _me_ down, I'm going to leave you here so you can chill, while I shop. I enjoy to shop, and you're going to be carrying my bags for that nasty little trick. I'll be back." She smiled sweetly at him and walked briskly away.  
  
"Yes, _your Highness_." He snarled when she was out of hearing range. He looked over to the log where the three rocks were perched like clay pigeons waiting to be shot to their doom. He raised his hand and glared, a moment later all three rocks exploded. Now he just had to convince himself that he hadn't imagined three little heads grinning up at him through a mess of blonde ringlets.

* * *

**Ansuz**  
  
_...a revealing message or insight, communication. Signals, inspiration, enthusiasm, speech, true vision, power of words and naming. Blessings, the taking of advice..._

_

* * *

_   
  
Maria's nose curled as she sat before Carsten with his black velvet table cloth, the weird Gregorian chant in the background and a bag of Scandinavian runes just waiting to be rolled out for her to see. Maria battled with herself about whether or not to point out that Gregorian chanters had naught to do with Norse tradition, nor did she think traditional chanters sung along to _'My Heart Will Go On,'_ but then again she was hardly an expert. There was no way she was going to let Liz's sceptical vibes interfere with her...hang on. She shook her head. She would not turn into the scary woman with the money pouch.  
  
Carsten was a pretty normal looking guy, probably around his mid-forties, he wasn't wearing violently purple robes, his dusty blonde hair was balding slightly, but not in a grotesque way. He looked like he would be excellent at running a hardware store.  
  
"Maria, is it?" He asked with a mild German accent.  
  
She nodded. "Do you want me to tell you what I'm really concerned about? So you know what to focus on..."  
  
"I don't do the focusing. I'm just here to help you...uh understand. It is not for me to decide where the Futhark fall." He gestured toward the velvet cloth before him. The table was square and wide, Maria could faintly make out silver lines on the velvet as he straightened it. A large box, divided into four squares. Those squares were further divided by the two central rings – the large encompassing the small. "Hold this for me and concentrate."  
  
Maria took the proffered leather pouch from him. She could feel the small pebble like runes rattling beneath her fingers. "Concentrate on what?"  
  
"On _you_." He said with a mild smile. Maria raised an eyebrow but shrugged her shoulders and did her best to comply. "Now, hold the bag over the table and tip it upside down."  
  
"That's it? Any particular angle? Do I have to say or think anything?"  
  
"No. Just dump them all out."  
  
This didn't exactly feel spiritual, aside from the mystical asphyxiating powers of his sandalwood incense. She tipped the bag up and flinched as the runes fell heavily on to the table. Most fell hard and sat still, but a few of them bounced and rolled with the violence of Maria's movement, falling off the table completely.  
  
"I'm so sorry..." she bowed to pick them up—  
  
"Leave them. They are not for you." He said with another mild smile. "Now let me see here." He leant over the table, his fingers hovering but not quite touching the ancient Norse symbols. "Hmmm."  
  
"Hmm? What does that mean? Is that a oh-how-wonderful-hmmm or a stock-up- on-kleenex-hmmm?"  
  
"Just hmm." She hated those easy smiles. This was her destiny here, could he at least wave a candle about and pretend it was of dire importance. Her ego was on the line. She paid good money for this show. He sat back in his chair, thumbing a finger against his bottom lip. He was frowning.  
  
"It's bad isn't it?"  
  
He shrugged. "It is not for me to decide." Oh. He was one of _those_; 'We know all but reveal nothing – real truth comes in vague abstract thoughts.'  
  
He leant forward again.  
  
"Over here," his hand hovered over the Northmost part of the table from Maria's perspective, "is Niflheim, which means roughly 'the fog world', here you will find what resists you. It is unconscious, unnatural...spiritual. It is interesting that you have such a heavy runic presence here. Nauthiz, Raidho in reverse, Hagalaz...the combination indicates that you are experiencing quite the emotional crisis."  
  
Maria snorted, but gestured for him to continue when he raised an eyebrow.  
  
"The reversed Raidho is troubling...it is an element yet to come, injustice...disruption..._death_. Yet it is balanced by runes that are not necessarily negative. Nauthiz is a rune of fate, acceptance of a crisis as necessary – it is a resistance to your goals that will lead to strength if patience is to be found." Maria shifted uncomfortably causing Carsten to smile briefly. He guessed patience wasn't a virtue commonly found in the pretty girl before him. "Hagalaz is completely beyond your control. You will be able to defend yourself from these other sources of resistance but...Hagalaz is _unstoppable_, a powerful force unrelated to you, though it may be construed as a controlled crisis through another's eyes. Even chaos can be a choice, initially."  
  
His hand moved to Maria's East, "Jotunheim. Chaos, confusion, male energy. These forces are normally within you, but they may be external. You are preoccupied, I think, with a boy...is that true?"  
  
"I'm not _preoccupied_, I'm just in an...intense...relationship, or rather I was, I will be... Hey! It's none of your business, you're only the translator-thingie, just read the stones please."  
  
"Yes, _preoccupied_ with a boy, represented by Uruz. Raw desire," the bastard was smirking, "He has strength but his potential is untamed. He will help you find yourself, but he himself is incomplete."  
  
"What's that mean?"  
  
"We will see." Vague son of a—"Asgard." Carsten continued moving his hand into the North East section of a faintly marked circle. "Higher influences, these may be relationships with higher powers..."  
  
"Like what?"  
  
He shrugged, "Gods, past lives..."  
  
"_Past lives?_ What does it say?" She leant over the strange symbol and strained her face as if the effort could make its meaning known to her. Carsten clearly wasn't trying to be helpful after all.  
  
"Othala in reverse." Carsten scratched his forehead. "It is never a good thing to have the past control your present to such an extent as the reverse Othala indicates. The reversal of this rune means slavery, being bound by inherited properties – the lack of a rune in combination indicates that this enslavement is unavoidable. Do you have any idea why this would be so?"  
  
"Oh yes." She snarled, glaring at Carsten as if he was somehow responsible.  
  
"Do not try and force that bond to break, it will only break other things. He is connected to his past deeply." He looked away from her, letting her stew on that for a while. "Vanaheim.- your erotic relationship with this man...ah Laguz." He smiled brightly. "This is good, it is good for the West to have a representation of water. Dreams, fantasies, the hidden deep enriched with the powers of growth. This is very good. It does carry the possibility of loss, but do not worry yourself." When he looked at her this time, his eyes were strangely intent. "Water must flow through the river before reaching the sea." Maria blinked, what the hell did that mean? She was about to ask but he continued on rather quickly, "The possible loss is further emphasised by the reverse Ehwaz, which indicates betrayal, restlessness in confinement—"  
  
"I thought this was _positive_!" She hissed tempted to shove Ehwaz up his Eh-ass.  
  
"Desire is always at its strongest when it is under threat. It has already been indicated that he is confined, not by you but his past. It is natural for there to be restlessness, this is not really a negative rune. Change is always good and this only indicates a _craving_, not necessarily its _fulfilment_. See, you also have Algiz. Algiz rarely falls in Vanaheim. It indicates fierce protectiveness, the ability to channel energies as they should be. Things will come to the right course. Though the wind might move the leaves, it does not steal them from the tree without death first.  
  
"Ljóssálfheim," his hand passed through the outer circle on the table, through Asgard to the NorthWestern quadrant, "strangely, no runes have fallen there. Normally this plane is deeply related to Asgard, as it will reveal to you how to plan your defences to the opposition presented there. It is not good for you that nothing can be done to stand between him and his past. This is something you cannot touch." Maria growled softly but said nothing. "Hel," his hand travelled South over a cluster of three runes, "you have quite a few suppressed desires. This is the dark feminine spirit, a devouring side—strong emphasis on vanity and the ego, I see—"  
  
"Hey!"  
  
"—as indicated by Fehu and Ansuz in reverse. Part of you finds pleasure in manipulation, ruling yourself and others your own way; you bring this to your relationships in degrees when your control slips. Kenaz, the desire to create your own reality through means of your ego, is balanced by the stronger passion to give yourself freely in sex, raw energy drives you." His hand travelled toward the southeast quadrant of the large circle and a flush invaded his face. "Desires will be realised, the life cycle is complete, a fruitful season, a time of peace." He looked up at her with an impish grin. "Good news for you, better work up your stamina." Maria tried not to blush but he wasn't paying attention anyway. "Muspellsheim – the southmost plane. These are active influences from the external environment, things you cannot control. Uh...Do not let this next reading concern you, you know that fulfilment of your strongest desires is in your future, but, but this...may have to do with the restlessness we talked about before—"  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"Your Berkano is in reverse. Normally Berkano would continue the pattern of desire, new beginnings...and even offer you some relief from your partner's heavy weight. But...in reverse it indicates domestic troubles. Anxiety, especially from you, about your relationship. A moment when control is lost, deceit...it is unclear how this will occur as there are no other indicators in the plane. Desire has a heavy emphasis in your reading though, is there anything from his past, a woman perhaps?"  
  
"Yes." Maria said tightly, suddenly feeling the urge to purchase the half price voodoo doll she saw three stalls down. Not that she felt threatened by Isabel. Much.  
  
"Do not let this anxiety trouble you, this is an accident, most of your reading indicates that he chooses you. Happiness, fulfilment, completion, remember?" He smiled reassuringly at her and she tried to remind herself that this was all mumbo jumbo anyway and she didn't really buy into her mother's gypsy propaganda, did she?  
  
"What is the central circle for?" Maria pointed to the circle within a circle – the focal point of the table.  
  
"Midgard, the realm of mankind. You and your most vital concerns. What this reading is about, the final plane. Ingwaz indicates you must listen to yourself above all, every loose string will be cut or tied so that you can frame your own line. A great reading for the desire for independence you have..." He pointed back to the runes he had mentioned earlier in Hel. "This independence is further emphasised by Isa. Normally a rune for frustration, the seeking of clarity – the positioning of this in the center indicates how annoyed you get by your restrictions to control this relationship. You will need to turn inward rather than outward to seek clarity. You cannot get the answers from him, perhaps he does not wish to give them but more probably it is because you cannot _allow_ him to, it is in you the final decision must be made."  
  
"Decision for what?"  
  
"Whatever the question was."

* * *

**Thurisaz**  
  
_...reactive force, directed power of destruction and defence, conflict..._

* * *

Liz didn't wander around that fair much after she had relinquished her guardianship of Maria. She sought sanctuary in the woods, the bustle of the people, the happy faces were too jarring for her misery. She'd just run from Max, she'd left him with Tess, his destiny. Liz growled, taking aim at a rock by her foot. It felt freeing and satisfying to stab through the air and watch it rise just a bit off the ground before slamming back down again. Quite a satisfying noise too. She spied another rock and grinned as she made her charge. When she was only three feet away, clenching her fists in anticipation, she let out a high pitched scream instead of a roar. The rock exploded, her ankle turned and she fell to the ground in a startled heap.  
  
"_What the hell are you doing?_" An angry voice yelled. She heard the splashes of heavy feet racing across the shallow creek, but she was too caught up in her own pain to bother seeking out the source of the voice. It was recognisable enough.  
  
"What am _I_ doing? What are _you_ doing out here? Shouldn't you be venting somewhere a little more secluded?" She glared up at the figure glowering over her. Her ankle was throbbing, sending jolts of clenching pain from the arch of her foot, past her Achilles, to her calf and back again. "In case you haven't noticed, there's a fair going on about two hundred feet from here!"  
  
"Couldn't you have practiced your running style in a more appropriate place, with better footwear?" He said as she pulled off the strappy blue sandal on her injured foot. Liz didn't miss his allusion to her tearful bolt through the desert, she just chose to ignore him. "_I'm_ not the one moaning in pain."  
  
"No, you just _caused_ it." She gritted her teeth, trying ineffectually (and quite painfully) to bend her twisted ankle in the right direction. She cried out pitifully and he rolled his eyes. Crouching down, he straightened her leg, gripped her ankle rather roughly. She tried to suppress her whimper. _Brute_.  
  
"Don't be such a wimp, Parker."  
  
His fingers moved over the skin of her ankle, he was frowning in concentration as Liz stared at the wrinkled lines on his forehead. Her whole foot was overly sensitive; every time he applied the slightest pressure she flinched like he had stabbed her with a pin. Despite what he'd hissed at her, he was at least trying to be gentle now. Good, because Liz knew that her foot had more bones than any other place on her body and she was fairly certain she'd broken half of them.  
  
"What are you doing out here, Michael?"  
  
"Practice. I was stuck working with rocks but a moving target just...fell into my lap." He smirked. "Thanks for screaming. The rest of my victims today have been annoyingly passive."  
  
"I'm here with Maria." She spoke softly, flinching as he squeezed her ankle.  
  
He didn't respond for a second, though he didn't seem as amused as he had a second ago. He released her ankle. "You fractured it. Just stretched the ligaments if you're lucky. You can still walk." He stood up, his face painfully controlled. "Later." He mumbled, turning to cross the creek again.  
  
"Wait! Could you get Maria for me? She's in the Futhark tent up—"  
  
"No. Way."  
  
"How am I going to walk back up the hill, Michael? Unless you want to help me—"  
  
She could see he was getting irritated when he yanked his hands over his face, looking left to right in exasperation.  
  
"If you're going to be such a princess about it, I'll wait until Tess gets back, _she_ can walk you. I'm busy. And don't even think about asking me to hold your hand."  
  
"T-Tess? No, no, no, no." Liz paled, pulling her wounded ankle closer to herself in instinctual protection. She ignored her limb when it throbbed in protest. "I'm fine." He knew she wasn't, but he didn't really want her to yank his conscience chain so he turned around again, determined to get as far away from the human liability as possible. "M-Michael?" Damn her. That voice, soft and sullen and helpless, how could a soldier resist a woman in need? _Damn her._  
  
"What?" He snapped.  
  
"Could you just help me up? I can make my way then, I just can't get the leverage." She was pushing with one of her legs, wobbling a little as she tried to hoist herself up without putting weight on the wounded foot. Her eyes were begging him. He almost laughed at the helplessly adorable picture she presented. Instead he coughed and walked back over to her. He gripped her hands first and pulled, she screamed so loud that he let go in fright. Her body went slamming back into the ground. "OUCH! _Michael!_"  
  
"Sorry." He mumbled as he awkwardly tried to wrap his arms around her from a standing position while she curled toward her good foot. It was like she was _trying_ to be difficult. "Oh screw this."  
  
He pushed her away from him and slid back down to sit against his ankles. He yanked up her skirt, folded it over her knee and pulled her foot onto his lap. Liz blushed furiously. Even though he hadn't tried to take advantage of the exposure, she tried to discretely press down on the material between her thighs to salvage some feminine dignity.  
  
"This will teach you not to go traipsing round the woods, won't it? You would have probably been eaten alive if I hadn't been here."  
  
"Pfft. I wouldn't have twisted my ankle if you hadn't been here making your relatives blow up in my face!"  
  
"So this is _my_ fault?"  
  
"If it wasn't, yippee for me! I'll contact a geologist when I get back home with the startling new find of exploding strata in Frazier Woods. I'll be on the front of National Geographic and have my own prime spot on the Discovery Channel in no time."  
  
His hands had been curled around his favourite black shirt. Her eyes shot sparks at him and he couldn't help but send them right back. It was poor calculation on her part to challenge him when he was in such bad mood. He removed his hands from his shirt with a smirk and reached across the distance between them. Liz wasn't quick enough to react. He grabbed onto the blue shirt she was wearing and—  
  
"What are you—AHH!" She yelped as he tore the bottom half of it off with a sneaky little alien trick he'd learned from Isabel. She looked down at her exposed midriff in horror. He jangled the sapphire coloured cloth in front of her, a gleam of triumph in his eyes.  
  
"The second lesson of the day: don't be a smart ass." He leant back on his ankles and readjusted her foot. She pouted mulishly, hating Michael, hating herself, hating chance and hating Max for making her miserable enough to be persuaded to come out here and—  
  
Where did he learn to do that? He was so efficient. She slid her knee to the side so she could watch him. Crouched over her foot, wrapping her shirt around her achilles, past the ball of her foot, over the top before looping it up again. One of his past lives must have included physiotherapy. She winced only slightly when the tension in the elastic material began to pull her foot back into its proper place. She wondered if he'd ever showed this skill to Maria.  
  
"Maria misses you." She watched his face. Nothing. He was good. "You didn't have to break up with her. She loves you, too." Her ankle suddenly heated up. She tried to pull her foot back and he smirked at her, holding it in place. He slid his hand away, revealing how he'd bonded the loose end to the rest of his improvised bandage. She exhaled in relief. He was only making sure it stayed in place. What did she think he was going to do? Blast her foot off?  
  
"Here I thought you wanted us to be with our destinies." He spoke coolly.  
  
"That's different. You didn't break up with Maria for Isabel."  
  
"Max didn't break up with you for Tess, either," he said nonchalantly. The challenge in his eyes was unmistakable. Liz's hackles rose to meet him, she sat up, neglecting to thank him for the bandage, this was too important to let herself be distracted.  
  
"He wouldn't do that to me, he'd never hurt me. I can't stop him from doing what he was born—"  
  
"Hatched."  
  
"—to do. It's his destiny, I couldn't let him think that—"  
  
"Oh sweet martyrdom, you're breaking my heart." He drawled sarcastically.  
  
"You broke up with Maria because you're scared and that's _very_ different."  
  
"_I'm_ scared? You baulked when there wasn't even a threat. Max gets himself a Queen, and the love that inspired dentistry, all of a sudden goes out of business. You're threatened by Tess and Max doesn't even give a shit about her." Michael shook his head, mumbling to himself. "She was always trying to make us like the two of you, it makes me sick." It took a moment for Liz to register he was talking about Maria. "The greatest love stories in the world are about powerful men choosing," he flicked his eyes up and down her body, "_commoners_ over their equals." Her lip curled, she wanted to pounce on him, fractured ankle and all. "Kings don't marry for love. King Arthur married for—"  
  
"It was Guinevere that cheated. I find it interesting you should mention that considering you came here with Tess, Sir Lancelot."  
  
This argument was pathetic. The argument didn't even have any particular tangent. He was just trying to score as many petty points off her as he could. He exhaled, trying to regain an even temper.  
  
"How's that?" He pointed to her ankle. She blinked in surprise, attempted to soften her features that were hardened in preparation for the verbal spat of the Century.  
  
"_Fine._" She still sounded cutting.  
  
"Hurt much?"  
  
"Yes, um a little." Much better. "It is supported, so thank you, but it's not like you waved your hand over it and—oh God. I'm sorry, I didn't mean that—"  
  
"Forget it, Parker."  
  
"It was a stupid thing to say." Liz bit her lip.  
  
His features hadn't changed it all, still smooth and blank as they'd been before he'd paid such close attention to her ankle. No matter how he looked from the outside, somehow she knew she had hurt him. She tried not to imagine the last power she'd seen him use, the last time he'd seen Max 'wave his hand' over an injury. Just after...  
  
"She doesn't blame you, none of us—Valenti would have died if it weren't for you. Think of what Pierce did to Max, you were doing the world—"  
  
"Don't try to patronize me."  
  
"I'm just saying...you're not a monster, Michael. You're not _dangerous_, even if you _did_ want to kill Pierce, Maria understands. I understand. I wanted him dead too, I...I was relieved." Michael glared at her then looked away clenching his jaw. "Maria wants to help you through this, be there for you."  
  
"_I_ don't want her to be."  
  
Liz sighed, changing her argument back to the original problem. "I didn't mean to insinuate that you weren't as powerful as Max because you can't—"  
  
"Shut. Up."  
  
"You have your own strengths." Liz rushed on, wondering why he was getting so upset when she was only trying to help.  
  
"Sure Parker! I'll be happy to give you a demonstration – anyone who rubs you the wrong away, I'll rub them _out_. Satisfied?" The sharp inflection of his words made Liz quiet for a moment, but the anger was back in her eyes. Obstinate, infuriating—  
  
He was so _impossible_ to talk to! She didn't know why Maria was chasing him or what Maria saw in the creep sometimes. No wonder he came out here to converse with rocks, he shared their level of intelligence and emotional depth.  
  
She made sure her voice was lethally even, "That's _not_ what I meant, perhaps if you—"  
  
"For your information, _Lizzie_...I _have_ healed someone."  
  
"What? Max never—"  
  
"He doesn't know." Michael sighed, looked around him. "Here. Riverdog broke his ankle when you were camping in the Woods."  
  
Liz looked down at her own ankle and then grinned up at him. "His ankle, huh?" She held her foot back up at him blinking her lashes pleadingly.  
  
Michael smirked. "Look..." he scratched the back of his neck with a frustrated groan, "you're right, I'm not good at it. Max would kill me if I melted your bones together. We can take you to him...when Tess gets back."  
  
"No!" She said too quickly. She laughed nervously. "Just...I mean his ankle was _broken_, mine's just fractured, it's nothing...please?"  
  
Michael stared at her for a moment then looked away and sighed. He crouched over her ankle, slid his hand over the bandage. Liz watched him speculatively as his hand began to glow white-blue.  
  
It was so different. Max had whispered to her 'you have to look at me' and gently eased her into a powerful connection that was so intimate she'd been drawn to him thereafter. With Michael there was no connection, her skin was just a mass of cells, just another structure to manipulate. His eyes closed in concentration. She was transfixed by the lines now apparent on his normally blank face, he was more animated than she'd ever seen. Sweat began to slide from his forehead over his face. She was so moved by his willingness to help her that the pain faded to the background long before it disappeared from her foot.  
  
He opened his eyes. He wouldn't look at her. Liz frowned when he waved his hand over her bandage. It quickly unravelled and he threw the material aside. She heard the splash as it landed in the creek.  
  
"Wa—" She stopped herself. It was fairly obvious that he could have just put her shirt back together again, but she was in no position to ask him for another favour like some whining princess.  
  
His hand was on her skin again but it felt different this time. She watched his fingers press in different areas, not a twinge of pain. It was quite like getting a massage, free of charge. Liz grinned. The grin faded, just slid away, the longer his exploration continued. His fingers alternated pressure between firm strokes and light brushes, moved over her ankle, squeezed, traced the delicate skin over her achilles. A pleasant shiver rushed up her calf, like a cold breeze had enveloped her. She jerked.  
  
"Still hurt?" He asked, worried eyes flicking up to her face. He looked genuinely concerned. Liz was mortified to feel a blush invading her cheeks. She shook her head quickly.  
  
"I'm perfect." He still hadn't released her foot. "Thank...you." His fingers were still moving over her skin. _Just let go,_ she chanted in her head.  
  
"No problem." He said.  
  
Now he was staring at her face, tracing every feature, always coming back to her eyes. She wished he would look away.  
  
Liz squirmed against the urge to flop back against the ground and just arch into the pleasant sensation shooting up her leg.  
  
"Aren't you going to ask me to stop?" He sounded amused.  
  
The look on his face could have been a smile if it wasn't so crooked. His eyes were glowing bronze, watching her curiously as his fingers pressed more firmly into her calf. He playfully pulled her closer until she slid across the leaves and dirt, bumping her backside into his folded knees. She gasped, but said nothing. She must look strange to him from his position looming above her. Laid flat on her back, one leg beside him on the ground, the other cradled in his large caressing hands, her skirt climbing dangerously high up her legs, her shirt torn in half, the crinkling leaves rubbing against her backside through her panties. What would this look like if Tess came back now? She blinked, _try not to concentrate on that, Parker. Stop calling yourself Parker, Liz. _  
"You have nice feet." He said, holding her foot up with a frown of interest on his face. All her nerves rushed up toward her mouth in a stampede of shaking laughter.

* * *

**Mannaz**  
  
_...the Self; Your attitude toward others and their attitudes towards you. Friends and enemies... _

* * *

"Here's your change."  
  
Tess smiled and accepted the proffered money. The grin widened when she picked up the bag of chocolate pretzels. She quickly put one in her mouth and frowned thoughtfully. It would probably be a bad idea to ask if he had any Tabasco sauce she could borrow.  
  
She walked through the stalls, not really browsing, just counting the minutes with a mischievous grin. She loved annoying Michael. When Max was annoyed he festered, became sullen and withdrawn. Occasionally he'd have an outburst but he'd always be apologetic afterwards. Michael was never apologetic, even when he was a complete ass. There was not a pretentious (or level-headed) part of Michael's body. Tess found that oddly comforting.  
  
She was tired of making him explode rocks too. Maybe she could get him to try some mental powers next, but she didn't really have faith that Michael would be able to concentrate that long without blowing a fuse and she wasn't really willing to let him fiddle around with her brain. Especially if he could make it explode like a melon. She grimaced. He had to practice first. Patience. Yep. If he didn't threaten to kill her again in the next round she might just give it a try.  
  
"Thanks, you were really helpful..._not_. The water must run through the river before it meets the freakin' sea. What the hell does that mean?"  
  
Tess froze at the sound of the familiar voice. She quickly darted behind a stand of beautifully designed Dream Catchers. She ignored the salesman who was trying to get her to purchase the large blue design with soft transparent gems. She was staring _through_ it, not _at_ it. There on the other side of the fair was Maria Deluca emerging from one of the cosmic tents or whatever the hell they were. Tess groaned. The last thing she wanted to do was run into one of the humans that thought she was Satan in hot-babe mode.  
  
Getting death threats from Michael was suddenly looking very promising. She might even let him have a pretzel.  
  
She turned back for the woods quickly, slowed down once she'd disappeared amongst the trees. She deliberately went a little more North than where she had exited to make sure she didn't somehow walk past him. It would be easier to follow the creek bed. She walked along for about five minutes before something strange caught her eye.  
  
She stepped closer to the edge of the Creek, sliding across damp pebbles to where it was bobbing gently in the water. She didn't touch it, who knew where it had been. It was a shoe, a strappy blue sandal with some kind of flower attached to the leather hoop that normally encases the toes. Tess frowned, who'd lose a shoe in the woods? She rolled her eyes, probably the same ditz who'd find sandals appropriate for hiking. With all the rocks and twigs on the ground (and Lord knows what else) the fool was probably paying for it now.

* * *

**Wunjo in reverse...  
**  
_...joy blended with sorrow...  
  
...delirium, intoxication, possession by higher forces, impractical enthusiasm...  
  
Frenzy..._

* * *

Liz's laughter made him smile at her, he even chuckled slightly. The sound made her laugh harder and she shoved his chest trying to rescue her kidnapped foot.  
  
But now it was a game. He was not letting the foot go.  
  
He tightened his grip and scowled at her. "I put it back together, it's rightfully mine."  
  
"Michael!" She yanked harder, finally pulling her foot free. He lost his balance and toppled backwards. "_Timbre!_" She cried. There was a loud splash followed by a pitiful moan of pain. She grimaced through a laugh. The creek was more of a trickle really, falling back like that _must_ have hurt. She crawled onto her knees, still giggling, "Don't be such a wimp, Guerin."  
  
He sat up. She unsuccessfully attempted to smother a giggle. His normally gelled hair was now completely unkempt, dry clumps were still sticking up while wet locks were loose and falling passively against his forehead. He frowned and shook his head, trying to sort out the mess on top of his head.  
  
"Something amusing, Parker?" He asked gruffly, half-tempted to ask if she had a mirror in that little purse of yours.  
  
"Just wondering if you were going for the wet-puppy look." She smiled. His hands paused, lowered to his sides slowly.  
  
"As opposed to the tangled sea-weed look?" He asked with a raise of the eyebrow.  
  
"Tangle sea—_No_!" Too late she tried to dodge him. He grabbed her wrist and yanked her toward him tumbling her down into the creek bed below. She yelped. The water was ice cold. He pressed her hair into the water and purposefully messed it with his fingers. "Stop it!" she shrieked trying to push his hands away. It was hard to scold him when she was half laughing. This was very surreal, wrestling with Michael Guerin, fifth on her list of least likely things to happen. He picked up a few clumps of what Liz supposed was moss and sunk his fingers back into her bedraggled hair. She shrieked.  
  
"Ergh! Nonononononono..." Her hands reached up to find the horrid green sludge but he caught her wrists.  
  
"Uh-uh...tangled sea-weed suits you Parker. Don't ruin it."  
  
"You suck," she whined and he chuckled.  
  
"You're just a sore loser."  
  
"I _didn't_ lose."  
  
He raised an eyebrow. She went limp, only just noticing he was pretty much lying on top of her, her legs framing his chest, her hands trapped in the vice-like grip of his. The top halves of their bodies were the only parts of them in the water. She could feel the slight current pulling at the ends of her hair, it was a pleasant sensation. She told herself it was the chill of the water that made her shiver. Her breathing was shallow from the effort of fighting him, he seemed a little breathless too.  
  
No one was laughing.  
  
"You should see yourself..." he tried to laugh, to reclaim the wild humour of the moment. He sounded like he was choking. He'd rarely felt like that, rarely forgot all his troubles and just acted like the kid he still was. The moment was gone and they were sliding quickly down a slippery slope into dangerous territory. She swallowed, he watched the muscles in her neck move. This was so wrong.  
  
He leaned down too quickly and she gasped. Jerked backwards. He was two inches away, she could feel his weight as he slid higher up her body, heard the delicate splashes beside her as he framed his hands on either side of her terrified face. He settled his weight on her and she bit her lip, just observing him with frightened interest.  
  
"Tell me to stop." His voice was so soft, she leant closer to hear. He mistook it for invitation, brushed his lips dryly against hers. Once. Twice. She shuddered, lowered the lids of her eyes to gaze at him from beneath her lashes.  
  
Above them birds took flight, the beating of their wings, their excited cries. All was silent down below except the casual splashes of her hands moving from the water tentatively touching his damp face. Too quiet. Time centred, this was such a concentration of sensual experience. Let the birds take flight again and stop this.  
  
Their lips met again, eyes open, willing faces so unmistakable in the soft filtered light through the canopy. He was shaking, had to grip the soft pebbles beneath her body to ground himself. Ground himself. He moved slightly against her, enjoying the pressure of her body. Giving and taking. She pulled him closer. It was all so slow. A natural progression, the first test – a brush – first taste – the casual flick of a tongue – then that ecstasy of drinking her in – opening his mouth, as she did the same. Their faces moved in synchronicity, a strangely perfect kiss.  
  
No taste, just the water, the slight chill of late afternoon. Clinging to his lips like dew. She similarly clutched his shoulders, shaking like she'd fall or be pulled from him in an instant. The water embracing them grew colder as their body heat escalated. She hissed as his weight pushed her in to a particularly pointy rock. He pulled back, took her hand, pulled her less than gently to the bank of the river, pressed her into the sand where it was soft and damp and he could fall on her without protest.  
  
His lips found hers quickly, homed in and exploded over her mouth with deft precision. His hands slid from her knee up the outside of her thigh and she arched instinctively, tilting her hips and pulling her lips free from his to sigh. His kiss trickled down from her chin, over her neck, sucked and nibbled the tender flesh by her pulse.  
  
She opened her eyes, watched the sway of scenery, the eerie play of light and shadow through the trees when the wind made leaves shiver. She felt free.  
  
"Just tell me to stop." His lips moved against her neck. He didn't sound urgent, just worried and a little confused. She rubbed against him, refusing to speak, grasped his face and kissed him again. Their movement against each other recommenced – barely rocking, brushing, swaying. It was painfully obvious he was enjoying himself. Painful to him at least. Her hips brushed enticingly, temptingly close to him. He lowered his hands to restrain her, squeezed slightly when his warning only seemed to encourage her to press into him more firmly.  
  
He gave up, let her insistence guide their movement into the downward thrust of desperation. She gasped in pleasure, her hands slid beneath his shirt, letting the wind rush against his exposed wet skin. He arched at the invasive chill; the pleasure that wracked his spine came from a different source but he quivered all the same. Her fingers were so small, delicate against his skin. His hands were much larger, rougher. They slid over her exposed stomach and she purred softly, biting down on her lip in concentration. He wanted to touch her everywhere, see if he could get her to respond so deliciously to every new sensation. Her kiss-swollen lips were currently being nibbled by eager teeth, he resisted the urge to groan.  
  
Michael watched her warily as he slowly let his hand slide under the shirt, over her ribs...he exhaled slowly...no bra. She was trying to kill him. He ran the back of his fingers around the underside of her breast. She gasped and her eyes opened wide, her jaw dropping as she looked up at him. He returned his mouth to hers, bit down gently on her lower lip, soothed the slight sting with his tongue. His hand enfolded her breast and they both groaned against each other. Every sensation was such a slow, stretched bliss. Both were full of fear, anxiety, it was moving too slow for those emotions to be absent but both were too afraid to speed up. Brutal intensity would shatter the surrealism of these caresses; neither wanted their partner scared into sudden withdrawal. It was better like this. _The Knowing_.  
  
She still hadn't said a thing. The more that time stretched out his pleasure, the less and less he wanted her to.

* * *

**Isa**  
  
_...standstill, or a time to turn inward and wait for what is to come, to seek clarity..._

* * *

She heard them before she saw. Darted quickly into the woods. The last thing she wanted to do was stumble across a couple of horny teenagers, groping each other in the woods. She laughed when she thought about how Michael would react if he saw this. He'd totally perve. Well...she was very tempted too. After all, it was their own fault, twisting around each other in the middle of the woods near a public fair, what did they think they were doing?  
  
She pushed aside a branch, her heart pounding as she peaked around the tree. Every muscle clenched when she recognised the figures intertwined on the ground. Every thought revolted. There was no room for calculation, or what this could mean for her and Max. Her mind was empty from the shock. Never ever in her wildest dreams..._how?_  
  
Michael was on top of Max's Little Princess, the girl he'd almost rebuffed his destiny for, if it hadn't been...had this been going on the whole time? Tess swallowed. They looked so...  
  
They were moving against each other, playing with the shadows and lights and Michael's hand was going...  
  
Some place Tess really didn't want to know about.  
  
She backed away quickly, pulling the leaves into place as quietly as she could. She stepped back slowly, careful to not be silent. She hated embarrassing situations. She kept walking until she couldn't hear their excited breathing anymore. Then she sat herself down and pulled out her chocolate pretzels. She hadn't seen a thing. She had the scars on her cornea to prove it.  
  
**

* * *

**

**Sowilo**  
  
_...the sun...  
  
...elemental force, sword of flame, cleansing fire..._

_

* * *

_  
His fingers...God...Liz squirmed against the ground, clutching his shoulders for support. His fingers were inside her, beneath her panties and he was...she blushed. This was so bad, why did it have to feel...  
  
"Ahh..." she squeaked, clenching her eyes tightly shut. "Mmmph."  
  
His hand moved away, caressed her thigh affectionately, returned to her hips as his lips nibbled at her chin, wandered down over her neck.  
  
"No..." she said.  
  
It was the first word she'd spoken.  
  
He exhaled across her face, a warm rush of disappointed air. He nodded briskly and braced himself to move off her. She dug her nails into his shoulders with a warning glare.  
  
"_No!_" She said louder.  
  
"No..._what_?" He asked. Women. Why the hell couldn't they use the English language like a man?  
  
"Don't stop." She said. Her voice was steady, her eyes pleading. Michael felt like he'd been punched in the stomach. True, he'd been disappointed when she told him 'no' but realising she really meant 'please sir, I want some more' was definitely more terrifying.  
  
Being male made things less complicated.  
  
He bridged the distance and kissed her soundly, moving her head to the side so he could deepen the embrace. Grinding and wet, the perfect give and take, he loved when her teeth accidentally brushed his tongue.  
  
His hands returned to her thigh, climbed higher, she nodded her head in encouragement.  
  
"Can I take these off?" He asked, she just kept nodding. He slipped his hands underneath her, pulled down on her panties until she could kick them off herself. His hands pushed her skirt up around her waist.  
  
Oh God...he licked his lips, grateful she had her eyes shut and couldn't see what a complete virgin he was being. He tried to keep his hand steady as he cupped her first, inserted one finger, two...oh. He rested his forehead against hers as she began to make a strange humming sound, arching with the rhythm of his caress. Slow. Steady. So warm. She _was_ trying to kill him. Restraint had never exactly been his strength.  
  
"Mi-chael..." his name or the wind?  
  
Her hand, shaking with desire joined his, pressed him closer to her, deepened the pressure. He complied with her guidance and she moaned loudly. She bit her lip in embarrassment and he laughed lightly at the horror on her face. She wouldn't stop him, not now. She punished him instead by sliding her hand down the fly of his jeans and cupping his crotch.  
  
"_Shit!_" He hissed. He ground his palm down into her mound in response. She gasped out, he inadvertently had massaged her clitoris. Her whole body pulled taut as his shuddered, protested against this restraint. "Shit..." he breathed. Her hand. Still there. She was definitely, _definitely_ trying to kill him.  
  
Play with fire. Get burned.  
  
He tried to pull her hand away with the one that was free, but it was impossible since he was using it to prevent himself from falling over. Liz growled at his interference, she was sweating, restless and desperate for something she had no idea how to ask for. Her hands fumbled with his fly trying to slide it open. His rhythm faltered...what was she...  
  
"Hey!" He quickly withdrew his hand from that wonderful wetness to stop her. "Don't do that."  
  
"You don't want—"  
  
"I do." Why were they both speaking so quietly? He swallowed. "I do, but—" She pressed her fingers to his lips, caressed the deep red plumes of flesh with pure tenderness. His gaze softened perceptively, he kissed her fingers. She replaced her fingers with her mouth. The kiss was like the first. New dry brushes, shaking breath and nervousness.  
  
Her fingers fumbled with his zipper, pushed his jeans and his boxers down. Ignored him when he gave thanks to the Lord with a relieved sigh. She kept kissing him, eyes shut tight, she couldn't watch this. But she wanted it.  
  
He moved above her and they explored. Slow and quick. When they came together it was the same, surprise and acceptance, pain and pleasure. A languorous rhythm commenced had them quaking internally even though their bodies barely moved. They swelled like water, like the tide and the shore, slow to the point of impatience sometimes, so it would last and last...Pain vanished and it was awkward and new and then it was...it was...freedom and then...  
  
Inexplicable.  
  
They couldn't speak to each other afterwards. Everything had been said. And done. Too much had been done. She couldn't find her shoe. He was fully dressed when he turned to help her. It was too much. Embarrassingly she burst into tears. Her body shook and she couldn't decide if the strange weightlessness in her muscles or the shame of her heart was worse. Both sensations intertwined; the perfect awkward, internal mess.  
  
"Liz..."  
  
She held her hand up, pushed his comfort away, and turned from him. A sensation without a face...oh it _had_ a face! And a name and a love and she had _hers_! She couldn't be here, breathing the air that still smelled like...  
  
Liz ran from him, gave no heed to the protection of her ankle, or the problem she had just made that much worse. She ran like a pagan, wild and free in the bittersweet darkness.  
  
**The End **


End file.
